


Take Care Of You

by Capsicle2013



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comfort, Domestic Avengers, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Family Fluff, Implied Mpreg, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker is Tony and Steve's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Sick Peter Parker, Sick Steve Rogers, Sick Tony Stark, Superfamily (Marvel), Superhusbands (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22766521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capsicle2013/pseuds/Capsicle2013
Summary: Tony catches a cold. Luckily, he has his husband and son to make him feel better.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 306





	Take Care Of You

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sick over the weekend and this idea popped into my head. I know I'm currently work on a sick!fic, but I decided to write one that was more fluffy. I love writing superfamily and this is just an excuse to write more of it!

Tony hated getting sick. Not only was his lab time restricted, but his husband became overly protective. He’s lost count of how many times he’s assured Steve that he was fine, that it was just a little cold. It doesn’t matter what he says or how many times he says it, Steve wasn’t convinced.

He starts to wonder if getting sick isn’t such a bad thing. Sure it means he’s restricted to some things and confined to his bed, but again, was that really a bad thing? He hadn’t slept in his bed in well...weeks. That was his first problem. His lack of sleep and unhealthy coffee obsession was not doing wonders for his immune system. He was going to get hit with a virus sooner or later.

As much as he hates having to lie around in bed all day, he quits the complaining and accepts that it is what it is. But of course Steve has been smothering him since he discovered that Tony was feeling a little under the weather. After some nagging on his part, he had made Tony comfortable in their king size bed with too many blankets and a steaming cup of tea.

Coffee was out. Now _that_ Tony was going to fuss over.

“Steve, I’m fine,” Tony huffs, folding his arms in annoyance. He reminds Steve of a certain child-their child.

“You know, you look like Pete when you do that. I think I see where he gets it from,” Steve teases, chuckling when he gets a glare in response.

“Like father like son.” Tony huffs again, growing more agitated by the minute from the blankets suffocating him. “Is all of this really necessary? It’s just a cold!”

“A cold that easily could’ve been avoided if you ate and slept like a normal human being.”

“Why do I feel like you’re gonna start nagging again? Jeez, Steve I know I’m not perfect, but I’m capable of taking care of myself.” The way Steve looks at him makes Tony roll his eyes. “You know what I mean!”

“Just relax,” Steve says, and he begins to adjust the blankets around Tony, making sure he’s snug and comfortable. “You’ll be better in no time.”

Tony scoffs. “Says the guy that doesn’t get sick. Wait, you can’t get sick right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Steve assures with a smile. “Let me take care of you okay? In sickness and in health remember?”

“Fine,” Tony grumbles. He throws his head back against the pillow. The minute his head comes into contact with the pillow, his eyelids suddenly feel heavy. He doesn’t remember being this drowsy. “Steve, what did you put in the tea?”

“Honey.”

“Yes, Dear?”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “Go to sleep, Tony. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Tony nods once, his eyes fluttering until they shut. He remembers Steve kissing him on the forehead, then he’s drifting off.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out or why he’s awake, then he hears a voice. It’s soft and slightly high in pitch; that voice is easily recognizable. Tony slowly opens his eyes, wincing from the brightness of the room. He lets out a groan and tries to break free from his confines to rub at his aching head.

He hears the voice again, this time followed by a small giggle. The presence of someone lingering over him is what makes Tony finally open his eyes. He gives himself a moment to adjust to the brightness, then his gaze falls onto the ceiling above him.

“Hi, daddy!” Peter, his five-year-old son, smiles down at him.

It’s not surprising to find his son dangling from the ceiling. At least not anymore. The first time they discovered that their little boy was capable of sticking to walls came as a shock. Peter had been two at the time and Tony was sure he was going to suffer a heart attack.

They had Steve to thank for their son’s unique abilities. The serum had been passed to their son during the pregnancy, and it wasn’t until he got a little older did they discover the effects it had on him. Sticking to walls was one thing, shooting webs was another.

Tony’s used to finding his son sneaking up on him like this, and if it had been any other day, he would have let it slide, but beside feeling like absolute shit, he has a pounding headache and his nose is stuffy and sore. The last thing he needs is his son plopping down on him.

“Pete, not now. Daddy is trying to sleep,” Tony groans. He’s finally able to slip one hand free and he rubs at his temples, applying a deep pressure to ease the ache.

“Papa said you were sick,” Peter says, completely ignoring his father’s request to leave him in peace. “I wanna help make you better, too!”

“Kiddo, I love you but daddy needs to rest okay? Go bug papa.”

“I already did.”

Tony huffs and winces. The headache is getting worse and he blames a certain someone. “Pete, please! I just want to be left alone.”

The silence that follows is unusual. Peter never knows when to stop talking, so for him to grow quiet means that Tony has messed up. One look at the ceiling again confirms his suspicions. Peter’s brown eyes have grown wide and bright with tears. The little sniff he emits is heartbreaking.

“Pete. Kiddo, I’m sorry. Come here, Baby.” Tony tries to coax his son. It must work, because Peter is slowly lowering himself down with his web until he’s gently dropping near the foot of the bed. With his free hand, Tony pats the spot beside him and Peter crawls closer, burying himself beside him.

“Sorry, daddy,” Peter sniffs again, raising one arm to wipe his nose with his sleeve. “I just wanted to make you feel better.”

“You did, Sweetheart.” Tony pulls his son closer and presses a kiss to the top of his messy brown curls. “I feel a lot better.”

“You do?” Peter stares up at him, not fully convinced.

“Yeah.” Tony smiles. “You always make me feel better.”

“Yay!” Peter cheers, the usual sparkle returns to his eyes. “Now can we play?”

“Uh-” Tony begins to answer, only to cut himself off when he notices another presence in the room. He glances over at the door, finding a very unamused Steve leaning against the doorway. “Hey, Honey! Pete was just-”

“Bothering you?” Steve raises a brow, then with a sigh he’s stepping into the room. “Pete, let daddy sleep.”

“But he says he’s all better now!” Peter protests. He crosses his arms over his chest, just like Tony had done.

“You really are your father’s son.”

“Come on, Steve,” Tony says, grabbing his husband’s attention. “The kid just wanted to cuddle. There’s room for one more.”

“Tony, you need to be resting.” Steve keeps his voice firm. He wasn’t about to give in.

“And I will be. But maybe I need my two favorite people to do that.”

Steve sighs in defeat and crawls onto the bed. “Tony, you’re so stubborn.”

“I know,” Tony smiles. He wiggles in the blankets, sighing in relief when Steve frees him. “Thanks. That was starting to become a pain in my a-” Tony stops himself, shooting his husband an apologetic look. Peter luckily hadn’t noticed.

Steve makes himself comfortable beside Tony and lets out a small sigh when his head hits the pillow. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you, Stark,” he says.

“Hmm…” Tony ponders, turning his head toward Steve. “You could kiss me?”

“And risk getting sick?”

“You can’t get sick, remember?”

Steve rolls over until he’s facing his husband, a small smirk forming over his lips. “You have a point.”

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It doesn’t last long and they’re forced to break apart when Peter makes his discomfort known.

“Ew that’s gross!” Peter grimaces and raises one hand to shield his eyes.

“You think that’s gross?” Tony questions, turning toward his son and reaching out to tickle him. The room erupts with the sound of Peter’s giggling; it’s one of Tony’s favorite sounds.

“I think that’s enough,” Steve interrupts the fun, earning a chorus of groans from his husband and son. “Tony you need to rest and Pete you need to finish cleaning your room.”

“But-” Peter tries to protest, only to drop it the minute he’s given a stern look. He hangs his head and sadly says, “yes, papa.”

He throws himself at Tony, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing a big, wet kiss to his cheek. “I love you, daddy. Feel better!”

“I love you, too, Pete. Now listen to papa. We can play later okay?” Tony promises, smiling when Peter nods his head enthusiastically.

Peter hops off the bed and scurries out of the room. Steve is the next to get up, making sure to take the empty mug with him.

“I’ll bring you more tea,” he says, then he’s frowning when Tony groans.

“Steve, I feel fine now. I swear I don’t-” The loud sneeze that escapes him doesn’t help in trying to convince his husband. And neither does the one that follows. “See?” He says after the round of sneezing. “Totally fine.”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll make sure to keep Pete away until you feel better.”

“But-” That same look Peter received a few minutes prior is being sent his way, and Tony knows it’s time to shut up. He sighs in defeat and lies back down.

Steve leans over to give him another kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tony never does get that second cup of tea. He’s fast asleep when Steve returns, and this time a certain Spider-Boy doesn’t disturb him.

When Tony wakes the next morning, he’s surprised to find that he’s still the only one in bed. He figures maybe Steve had gotten up early like he always does, but that doesn’t mean he’s not disappointed to wake up alone.

He sits up and stretches, his back and shoulders popping. He can’t remember the last time he’s woken up feeling this refreshed. Maybe it was time he started spending more time in his bed.

The ache in his head is gone and the stuffy nose is tolerable. He knows he’s not at a hundred percent, but he feels pretty damn close. Whatever the hell Steve put in the tea did wonders, and he was starting to feel like himself again.

He climbs out of bed, thankful to be free from the pile of blankets that Steve deemed necessary. The apartment is quiet. It’s both unusual and a little unsettling. Usually it’s filled with the sound of their son’s rambling, but every now and again Tony would hear the television on or an old forties tune playing.

This morning he’s greeted with silence. It should be a good thing. The apartment hasn’t been this peaceful in years. Peter had changed many things in their lives, but Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

But he knows better when a child is silent. Peter is up to no good.

Tony’s suspicions are proved wrong when he enters the living room, and is greeted with the sight of his husband and son curled up on the sofa. They’re wrapped in a large plush blanket. It’s not unusual to find them huddled on the couch with a movie playing, but the mess of crumpled tissues near the couch is what Tony finds concerning.

Steve looks up when he notices Tony in the room, giving his husband a good view of his red, stuffy nose and watery eyes. He sniffs and reaches into the tissue box beside him, making sure to send Tony a glare before he’s sneezing into the tissue.

“You got us sick,” Steve says, his voice slightly altered from the cold.

“Yikes. You look like shit,” Tony states, earning another glare from his husband. “Sorry. Wait, I thought you couldn’t get sick.”

Steve sniffs again. “Apparently I can. This is your fault.”

“My fault? You’re the one who kissed me,” Tony reminds him.

“Daddy?” Peter stirs from where he’s curled up beside Steve. He pokes his head out from under the blanket. “I don’t feel good.”

“Aw, Kiddo. I’m sorry.” And really Tony is. He never thought his super husband and super son were capable of getting sick. “I’ll take care of you okay?”

“M’kay,” Peter slurs and buries his head back under the blanket.

Tony comes closer and leans down to press a kiss to his son’s head, then he’s placing one to Steve’s. “I’ll get you some tea,” he tells him and Steve nods.

“And tissues.” Steve raises the empty box and frowns.

“And tissues.” Tony repeats with a nod of his head. He leans down to place another kiss to Steve’s head. “I guess it’s my turn to take care of you.”


End file.
